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ABSTRACT This article experiments with interology as a mode of inquiry. It creates a multitude of interalities between Deleuzes works and Zen literature, partly for purposes of mutual
illumination, partly for the sake of involution. It is meant as equipment for living, which is
incomplete without the readers involvement. Its serviceability rests on the readers becoming
one with it.
KEYWORDS Deleuze; Zen; Interality; Interology
RSUM Cette article vise faire lexprience de linterologie comme mode de recherche. Il
gnre une multitude dinteralits entre luvre de Deleuze et la littrature zen, pour susciter
la fois des illuminations mutuelles et une forme dinvolution. Il est conu comme un
assortiment doutils pour la vie qui demeurerait incomplet sans la complicit du lecteur. Son
utilit dpend de la capacit du lecteur devenir un avec le texte.
MOTS CLS Deleuze; Zen; Interalit; Interologie
Introduction
This article explores under-examined resonances and affinities between Gilles
Deleuzes thought and the Zen sensibility. It is the authors belief that such an exploration will create a productive interface between Deleuze and Zen, enrich our understanding of both, and allow new insights to emerge. Part of the purpose is to reveal
that there are secret tunnels between the two seemingly distant intellectual and ethical
currents. The desired effect in the audience is the sting of perception and the shock of
recognition. The article highlights such motifs as vitalism, ego-loss, voyage insitu, working against language, smoothness, et cetera.
Although Deleuzes mind was populated by a whole coterie of thinkers, three
of them stood out as pivotal influences. In his introductory book on Deleuze, Todd
May (2005) has a curious line: Spinoza, Bergson, Nietzsche: Christ, the Father, the
Holy Ghost (p. 26), which is nothing less than a revelation of Deleuzes psychic
makeup. The Christian overtone of Mays analogy should not distract us from the
Peter Zhang is Associate Professor of Communication Studies at Grand Valley State University,
290 LSH, Allendale, MI 49401. Email: zhangp@gvsu.edu .
Canadian Journal of Communication Vol 41 (2016) 1-XXX
2016 Canadian Journal of Communication Corporation
412
fact that the three thinkers primary impulses all point in the direction of Zen. To be
more specific, Spinozan ethics is an ethics of joy; so it is with Zen. Bergson celebrates
lanvital (
) and sees intuition and immediate experience as far more important than the intellect for understanding the world; so does Zen.1 Nietzschean philosophy is a life philosophy; so is Zen. As Alan Watts (1958) puts it, The freedom
and poverty of Zen is to leave everything and Walk on, for this is what life itself
does, and Zen is the religion of life (p. 60, emphasis added). Christmas Humphreys
(1968) calls Zen a virile, stern yet laughing philosophy of life (p. 37). Deleuzes corpus embodies and affirms all three strands of philosophical and ethical influences.
Thus, it is only natural if we detect resonances and affinities between Deleuzes
thought and the Zen sensibility.
This article is not a linearly progressive essay that uses some philosophical first
principle as its point of departure. Instead, it starts right in the middle. It is made up
of an ensemble of provocations backed up with mutually resonant refrains drawn from
Deleuzes corpus on the one hand and Zen literature on the other. Although an intimate familiarity with the two bodies of literature is not assumed in the reader, it is
nevertheless called for. The textual strategy is not unlike that of rhapsody, montage,
or mosaic.2 While the provocations and refrains may serve to energize us, it is more
interesting to see how flows of energy can be motivated by the intervals or interalities
between them. As such, this exploration is interological in nature.
The issue of hermeneutical gaps, however, poses a potential challenge to the legitimacy of this mode of inquiry. Can one translate into another vernacular
(Deleuzism) concepts from such a different historical epoch or cultural milieu (that
of Zen)? Is there any incommensurability between the two paradigms that is being
done violence to? Indeed, a vast historical and geographical distance lies between the
two intellectual and ethical currents, and whatever affinities and resonances there may
be in between, they seem to be fragile and tenuous. As such, incommensurability is a
given. At a spiritual level, however, it dissolves. There is throughness in between,
which Deleuze seems to have figured out already, as evidenced by his book The Logic
of Sense (1990), which has a lot to do with the fuzzy boundary between sense and nonsense. The book indicates that the influence of Zen upon Deleuze is direct. Proust and
Signs (Deleuze, 1972) has a Zen flavour to it. So does Anti-Oedipus (Deleuze & Guattari,
1983). So does Deleuzes style or mode of writing. There is a living quality to it. None
of his ideas can be reduced to a thing. The posthumous glory of being hated by symbolic autopsists!
The issue of hermeneutical gaps is a Gordian knot cut by Deleuze, who transcends
conceptual thinking by taking it to a bursting point. The hermeneutical gap argument
may well be a symbolic resource deployed by theoretical conservatives to obstruct
cross-cultural work. For our purposes, gap is precisely a synonym for interality,
which naturally attracts the flow of mental energy and motivates inquiry. Zen in English
Literature and Oriental Classics, by R.H. Blyth (1942), is a precedent for this mode of inquiry. Similar examples are numerous in intellectual history. Deleuzes work actually
gets us to ponder the question: what guise should Zen assume in the West? The following provocations may give us an inkling of an answer.
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Provocations
A profound vitalism lies behind both Deleuze and Zen.
The message is to unburden, unblock life, to trace lines of flight, to get rid of hindrances
so life can reach its utmost potential. As such, Deleuze and Zen both imply a positive
sense of virtue.
The vitalistic ethos is a recurrent motif in Deleuzes work. It runs through
Deleuzes interpretation of the will to power, the eternal return, the active and the passive (as distinguished from the reactive), difference and repetition, nomad thought,
and so on.3 The guiding question implied by this ethos is: is such-and-such life affirming or life negating? As Deleuze (1997a) points out in an article on Nietzsche: [T]o affirm is not to bear, carry, or harness oneself to that which exists, but on the contrary
to unburden, unharness, and set free that which lives (p 100). It is a question of
knowing whether a being eventually leaps over or transcends its limits in going to
the limit of what it can do, whatever its degree (Deleuze, 1994, p. 37). The virtuous
and free are those who do not block the life force (i.e., lanvital) that is within themselves. Vitalism in Deleuze is not just about the personal, though. It entails a politics
as well. Reactionary forces, for example, have a vested interest in blocking movement,
whereas active forces always embrace it (Deleuze, 1995). Democracy itself needs to be
envisioned and practised vitalistically. A genuine democracy is nothing less than a
crowned anarchy that allows people to give free rein to their potentials. Deleuzes work
needs to be read as political philosophy.
Likewise, the point of Zen discipline is about unleashing the practitioners arrested
potentialsdoing so without resorting to straining because straining almost always
accomplishes the opposite. Conventional wisdom, however, often associates Zen with
little more than calmness in a volatile world, thus missing the power or effectiveness
side of Zen entirely. As Suzuki (1956) points out, Dhyana is not quietism, nor is it
tranquillization; it is rather acting, moving, performing deeds, seeing, hearing, thinking,
remembering (pp. 181182). Zen manifests itself in real life as an efficacy emanating
from the elimination of hindrances and blockages. To use a half line from Thomas
Cleary (2005a), Zen awakening unlocks hidden capacities (p. 230). As such, it is
vitalistic in nature.
Figure 1
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It is worth pointing out that the Spinozan notion of nature, which Deleuze invokes
often, has an exact equivalent in Zen literature, which is called hsing [xing] . In the
final analysis, both are synonymous with lanvital. As Suzuki (1956) puts it: Hsing
means something without which no existence is possible, or thinkable as such. As its
morphological construction suggests, it is a heart or mind which lives within an individual. Figuratively, it may be called vital force (p. 172). To see into ones self-nature
is to intuit ones lanvital.
Deleuze and Zen both see the ego as a trap and advocate ego-loss.
Ethically speaking, ego-loss and vitalistic autopoiesis are simply flip sides of the same
coin, the apparent paradox notwithstanding. For Deleuze, ego-loss constitutes a betrayal of the codes or life scripts overdetermined by the social system and involves the
tracing of lines of flight, which is a species of life-experimentation with no guarantee.
Indeed, in the search for freedom, a man takes his life in his hands. As Deleuze puts it
in On the Superiority of Anglo-American Literature: [I]t is difficult to be a traitor;
it is to create. One has to lose ones identity, ones face, in it. One has to disappear, to
become unknown (Deleuze & Parnet, 1987, p. 45). A bit later in the same context, he
points out, We are always pinned against the wall of dominant significations, we are
always sunk in the hole of our subjectivity, the black hole of our Ego which is more
dear to us than anything (Deleuze & Parnet, 1987, p. 45). Identity, subjectivity, and
ego are synonymous terms here. In The Logic of Sense, Deleuze (1990) points out that
[t]he impersonal and pre-individual are the free nomadic singularities (p. 141).
Arguably, this single line captures the very gist of Zen. The impersonal and pre-individual are free from the hindrances that come with the ego and capable of operating
in a state of wuxin
(i.e., no mind). Hence, [t]o paint without painting, nonthought, shooting which becomes non-shooting, to speak without speaking (Deleuze,
1990, p. 137).
In Anti-Oedipus, Deleuze and Guattari (1983) present the schizo as the one capable
of accomplishing ego-loss. Take this quote:
[The schizo, the man of desire] produces himself as a free man, irresponsible, solitary, and joyous, finally able to say and do something simple in
his own name, without asking permission; a desire lacking nothing, a flux
that overcomes barriers and codes, a name that no longer designates any
ego whatever. (p. 131)
Ego-loss is a mark of freedom, so to speak. It is also a mark of sanity: True sanity entails in one way or another the dissolution of the normal ego (Laing quoted in Deleuze
& Guattari, 1983, p. 132).
Deleuze associates ego-loss with the dissolution of substantives and adjectives. As
he puts it in The Logic of Sense:
[W]hen substantives and adjectives begin to dissolve, when the names of
pause and rest are carried away by the verbs of pure becoming and slide
into the language of events, all identity disappears from the self, the world,
and God. (Deleuze, 1990, p. 3)
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Although this understanding is Stoic in origin, it is nevertheless well in line with the
Zen sensibility. The grammatical equivalent of Zen is a verb in the infinitive form.
Zen literature holds that [n]othing remains the same for two consecutive ksanas
(the shortest imaginable periods of time) (Hanh, 1995, p. 39). Therefore nothing has
a fixed identity. To cling to a fixed ego is to negate the very essence of life, whereas to
let go is to affirm life. This is precisely the main argument of Watts book The Wisdom
of Insecurity (1951). In practical matters, the ego always brings with it a psychological
blind spot, thus keeping one from coping with situations with an unclouded mind or
no mind. The mind is an outcome of cultural conditioning. Ego-loss, or psychic minorization, is a matter of deconditioningand the precondition for true wisdom.
In the Linji/Rinzai
School, each disciple is given a fitting huatou/wat
(critical phrase) to contemplate. The right huatou encapsulates the disciples Great
Doubt (dayi/daigi
, a state of concentration brought to its highest pitch). The disciple who is in a state of absolute concentration on the huatou stands a chance of being
suddenly awakened by an accidental trigger, which may take a number of forms, such
as the sound of the temple bell, the sight of a flock of birds against the grey sky, or a
serendipitous stanza the disciple stumbles upon. A strong resonance may exist between the huatou and the stanza, thus inducing a cathartic catastrophe in the disciples
mind, which becomes the site of the explosion. The most common huatou is Who
am I? and the right answer is arguably Buddha. As the huatou is cracked, so the
ego is pulverized, and the disciple experiences a satori (wu/go ), big or small. As
Suzuki (1956) puts it, The individual shell in which my personality is so solidly encased explodes at the moment of satori (p. 105). Cleary (2005b) points out that satori
means the awakening of the whole potential for the experience of experience itself
(p. 234). Couched in Deleuzean terms, such awakening jolts one in the direction of a
pure perception identical to the whole of matter (Deleuze, 1991, p. 27). Our labels for
things are no more than thin simplifications. They promote recognition but pre-empt
encounter. Satori entails the reopening of the doors of perception, or the lowering of
the threshold of perception. As a result, one gains access to what Deleuze and Guattari
(1987) call microperceptions (p. 283).
The utility of ego-loss is a recurrent motif in the works of Zhuangzi
, which
preceded and profoundly informed the rise of Zen. In the chapter entitled Mastering
Life, for example, Zhuangzi tells the story of woodworker Ching, who made a bell
stand that seemed to be the work of gods or spirits. Ching attributes his capacity to
the achievement of ego-loss through fasting:
When I am going to make a bell stand, I never let it wear out my energy.
I always fast in order to still my mind. When I have fasted for three days,
I no longer have any thought of congratulations or rewards, of titles or
stipends. When I have fasted for five days, I no longer have any thought
of praise or blame, of skill or clumsiness. And when I have fasted for seven
days, I am so still that I forget I have four limbs and a form and a body. By
that time, the ruler and his court no longer exist for me. My skill is concentrated and all outside distractions fade away. Thats probably the
416
reason that people wonder if the results were not made by spirits. (Watson,
1968, pp. 205206)
Zhuangzi can be retroactively called a Zennist, the anachronism notwithstanding.
417
ing, or jiji muge without talking about univocity. These terms all imply each other. Let
us bracket the whole notion of univocity for the moment.
Satori is contingent upon slipping the trap of language. The exact same
impulse is seen in Deleuze.
For one thing, Deleuze advocates the invention of a foreign language within language,
or reaching the outside of language (Deleuze, 1997b, pp. 225230).
The Zen mode of communication is economical, improvisational, suggestive, heuristic, pragmatic, sometimes paradoxical, but never syllogistic. The purpose is not so much
to impart conventional knowledge as to trigger a sudden, total awakening, which is
known as dunwu
. The Zen master can improvise well-calibrated, well-timed triggers
to catalyze satori but can never force satori into a disciple. Satori happens only when the
;
)pun intended. As a Zen phrase has it,
disciple runs out of language (
Bound up in words, a person gets lost (
) (Hori, 2003, p. 117).
418
It takes tireless negation on the part of the master for the disciple to get to the
point where he is totally cornered, ready for the mind-blowing experience of satori,
which feels like a catharsis and gives one the sensation of freedoma sensation that
is ineffable and incommunicable. Carl Jung rightly calls satori a mysterium ineffabile
(quoted in Suzuki, 1964, p. 11). The taste of satori is in the tasting. It is like drinking
waterone knows for oneself whether it is cold or warm (
,
). As
Humphreys (1968) puts it, satori is the im-mediate experience of truth as distinct
from understanding about it (p. 33). The masters negation (of discursive understanding) is indistinguishable from a profound affirmation (of suchness, of the flux of life
that defies linguistic categorization).
Although language, like the pointing finger, always falls short of capturing it, to
prescribe Speak not as a result is to miss the point entirely. The Zen-minded are full
aware of both the limitations and the utility of language. What differentiates them
from nave verbal realists is that they are not overly obsessed with or distracted by
mere semantics. Rather, they are more pragmatic minded and effect oriented. The Zen
master frequently resorts to humour, paradox, conundrums, and nonsense to shake
his disciples awake from their linguistically induced hallucinations, so they become
aware of it. As the signifying function of language recedes, so the edifying function
kicks in. Deleuzes constant mention of Zen humour, Lewis Carroll, and pragmatics
and his repeated use of paradox and oxymoron indicate that he was privy to this linguistic truth, just like the typical Zen master.4
The Zen mode of discourse is a recurrent motif in The Logic of Sense. Take this
passage on paradox:
Chrysippus taught: If you say something, it passes through your lips; so,
if you say chariot, a chariot passes through your lips. Here is a use of paradox the only equivalents of which are to be found in Zen Buddhism on
one hand and in English or American nonsense on the other. In one case,
that which is most profound is the immediate, in the other, the immediate
is found in language. (Deleuze, 1990, pp. 89)
Three additional lines from the book are worth quoting here: Paradox is opposed to
doxa; with the passion of the paradox, language attains its highest power; the paradox is the force of the unconscious: it occurs always in the space between (lentredeux) consciousnesses, contrary to good sense or, behind the back of consciousness,
contrary to common sense (Deleuze, 1990, pp. 7580). Insofar as Zen means the triumphant irruption of the extra-sedentary, it is essentially para-doxical. A line from
the back cover of Humphreys book Zen Buddhism (1968) is in order here: Anyone
who recognizes the super-sense behind the non-sense of Edward Lear or Lewis Carroll
is already halfway to Zen. This line not only resonates with the Deleuze passage on
paradox, but also sheds light on his book title, The Logic of Sense.
419
Mediators are to Deleuze as triggers for satori are to the student of Zen.
For Deleuze, the chief function of mediators is to catalyze creativity, help remove blockages (e.g., Platonic Ideas), and induce becoming. Mediators are sources of inspiration
and hold the potential to touch off a process of involution. But mediators cannot function if one has not developed the capacity to be affected. If ones will to becoming is
the cause , then mediators are the pratyaya (yuan/en ). Suzuki (1961) points out,
[i]n fact, all the causes of satori are in the mind (p. 245). In explaining the Zen term
jiyuan/kien
, Hori (2003) indicates that ki denotes the potential of the practitioner or disciple and by extension the practitioner or disciple himself and that
kien means disciple and master (p. 678). That is to say, the master serves the function
of pratyaya. But other things can serve as pratyaya too.
To be ethical means to be adequate to ones encounters or, to use Deleuzes language, not to be unworthy of what happens to us (1990, p. 149). The virtuous person
is thus marked by receptivity and affectability. For the prepared person, mediators can
be anything. They can be people but things too, even plants or animals (Deleuze,
1995, p. 125). Deleuze and Guattari, for example, were mediators for each other. When
they worked together, each of them falsified the other, which is to say that each of
them [understood] in his own way notions put forward by the other (Deleuze, 1995,
420
p. 126). Their collaborative works leave the impression that the writing was done by a
third person that had emerged in between. Anti-Oedipus, for example, at times took
on a powerful coherence that could not be assigned to either one of [them] (Deleuze,
2007, p. 239).
For the student of Zen, the primary mediator is the Zen master, who uses all sorts
of upaya (i.e., expedient means) to bring about awakening in the disciple. As Suzuki
(1956) puts it, The Zen masters are always found trying to avail themselves of every
apparently trivial incident of life in order to make the disciples minds flow into a channel hitherto altogether unperceived (p. 90). However, if the mind of the student is
ripe, then all things and beings are teaching, which is to say, all things and beings
are potential mediators (Hershock, 2005, p. 115). As the Zen phrase has it, He saw the
) (Hori, 2003, p. 166). Hakuin
reached
star and awakened to the Way (
his first awakening upon hearing the temple bell at the Eigan-ji temple.
Xiangyan/Kyogen
experienced satori when a piece of rock struck a bamboo as
he was sweeping the ground (Suzuki, 1956). A monk called Yenju attained satori when
he heard a bundle of fuel drop (Humphreys, 1968). Contemporary Chan master Victor
experienced awakening upon hearing his masters snore. Yuanwu
Chiang
opened satori upon hearing an amorous poem (the English for the crucial last two
lines is offered below):
Again and again I called Little Jade, but for no real purpose,
Just so that my lover can recognize my voice. (Translation mine)5
The real message here is not what I say but my very voice. There is a hidden
analogy, or a kind of allegorical coding, though, to which only the prepared disciple is
privy: the kans and cryptic words uttered by the Zen master now and then are not to
be taken literally; they are addressed to those whose minds are ripe and are meant to
shock them into awakening. The defacto addressee is oftentimes the accidental overhearer who is ready for the moment of abrupt awakening. The sixth patriarch, Huineng/Yeno
, was a good example of such an overhearer. Legend has it that he
attained his initial satori upon overhearing the following line from the Diamond Sutra:
Arouse the mind that abides in no place (
).
What makes meaningless sounds fitting triggers of awakening is probably the fact
that sounds are living events in the process of fading away, thus embodying the principle of impermanence. Precisely because they are meaningless, such sounds do not
distract people from their dependent arising and subsequent demising. A mountain
precisely because its expresspring is capable of preaching the Dharma
sions are wordless and meaningless. Deleuze and Guattari (1987) have a line about
sound that is worth quoting here: sound invades us, impels us, drags us, transpierces
us. It takes leave of the earth, as much in order to drop us into a black hole as to open
us up to a cosmos (p. 348).
421
422
Deleuzes concern is that, compared with the old discipline, control is a different
animal entirely (a snake as apposed to a mole) and necessitates the invention of new
weapons of resistance. For the Zen minded, however, agency resides in non-duality.
Metaphorically speaking, jujitsuthe Zen art of using the opponents own strength
to defeat himmay well be an efficacious style of resistance in control societies.
423
the moral codes of society (p. 53), the typical Zennist is fiercely iconoclastic too.
Similarly, Deleuzean ethics is all about decodification, or the invention of lines of flight
to slip the trap of culture and to unblock, unburden life. Speaking of flight (i.e., escape),
Humphreys point about Zen being an escape into life, not an escape from it applies
to Deleuzean ethics as well (Humphreys, 1968, p. 74). Deleuze would call the Zen sensibility a minor, nomadic sensibility. Minor and nomadic are synonymous with
vitalistic. Nanquan
pointed out in a lecture: If there are names, everything is
classified in limits and bounds (
) (quoted in Watts, 1989, p. 129).
If, as Flusser (2003) puts it, all definition is a form of imprisonment (p. 48), then
the nomadic sensibility is all about indefinability. The same can be said of the Taoist
and Zen sensibilities. Taoists and Zennists are spiritual nomads. In this sense, Deleuzes
interest in nomadism and nomadology could be characterized as a Zen impulse.
Between the royal and the nomadic, he is definitely invested in the latter, both ethically
and politically.
Lao-tzu said, The scholar gains every day, but the Taoist loses every day (
,
) (quoted in Watts, 1962, p. 11). Pursuing the Tao is not about adding
anything. Rather it is about eliminating blockages, hindrances, impediments, trained
incapacities, and the like. As Bruce Lee (1975), the Taoist-minded martial artist, observes, The more aware you become, the more you shed from day to day what you
have learned so that your mind is always fresh and uncontaminated by previous conditioning (p. 200). Zen follows the same logic. As a way of liberation, Zen rests on
the elimination of attachment
; having no attachment
is the sign of one
who has received the Tao
. Zen values simplicity and poverty, and sees ego-loss
and the forgetting of language as marvellous accomplishments. Literally, Zen
is
manifesting ( ) the simple ( ) (Wilson, 2012, p. xxvi). Watts (1958) points out,
[] the poverty of the Zen disciple is the negative aspect of his spiritual freedom; he
is poor in the sense that his mind is not encumbered with material and intellectual
impedimentathe significant Latin word for baggage (p. 59).
Suzuki (1956) has a passage that explains why intellectual baggage is to be dispensed with:
The mind is ordinarily chock full with all kinds of intellectual nonsense
it is chiefly because of these accumulations that we are made miserable
and groan under the feeling of bondage. Each time we want to make a
movement, they fetter us, they choke us, and cast a heavy veil over our
spiritual horizon. We feel as if we are constantly living under restraint.
We long for naturalness and freedom, yet we do not seem to attain them.
The Zen masters want to have us get rid of all these wearisome burdens
which we really do not have to carry in order to live a life of truth and enlightenment. (pp. 1718)
Like the Taoist and the Zennist, Deleuze is privy to the wisdom of elimination: eliminate the too-perceived, the too-much-to-be-perceived. Eliminate all that is waste,
death, and superfluity everything that roots each of us (everybody) in ourselves,
in our molarity (Deleuze & Guattari, 1987, p. 279). In elimination lies the very secret
of becoming, so to speak. Invoking the voice of Franois Cheng, Deleuze and Guattari
424
(1987) point out in AThousand Plateaus that Chinese poets retain, extract only the
essential lines and movements of nature (p. 280), which is to say the inessentials are
eliminated. The extraction motif recurs in the chapter on the refrain: Your synthesis
of disparate elements will be all the stronger if you proceed with a sober gesture, an
act of consistency, capture, or extraction that works in a material that is not meager
but prodigiously simplified, creatively limited, selected (Deleuze & Guattari, 1987,
p. 345, emphasis in the original).
In the chapter on how to make oneself a body without organs (BwO), Deleuze
and Guattari (1987) point out: The BwO is what remains when you take everything
away. What you take away is precisely the phantasy, and signifiances and subjectifications as a whole (p. 151). To make oneself a BwO is to eliminate all the hindrances so
one reaches an egg-like statefull of potentials, free from illusions, the ego, and the
attendant meaning system. This read is highly compatible with the spirit of the first
hexagram of the IChing: The action of Heaven is strong and dynamic. In the same
manner, the noble man never ceases to strengthen himself (Lynn, 1994, p. 130). The
strengthening is accomplished through the elimination of impediments. Deleuzean
vitalism is a matter of elimination. So it is with Taoism and Zen.
In the opening chapter of AThousand Plateaus, Deleuze and Guattari (1987) put
forward PLURALISM = MONISM as the magic formula we all seek (p. 20). Behind
this formula lies the notion of univocity, the gist of which can be grasped through this
line from The Logic of Sense: to the extent that divergence is affirmed and disjunction
becomes a positive synthesis, it seems that all events, even contraries, are compatiblethat they are inter-expressive (Deleuze, 1990, p. 177). A bit later in the same
context, Deleuze (1990) points out:
The univocity of Being does not mean that there is one and the same
Being; on the contrary, beings are multiple and different, they are always
produced by a disjunctive synthesis, and they themselves are disjointed
and divergent, membra disjuncta. It occurs, therefore, as the ultimate
form for all of the forms which remain disjointed in it, but which bring
about the resonance and the ramification of their disjunction. It is
a single voice for every hum of voices and every drop of water in the sea.
(pp. 179180)
The notion of univocity is an acoustic, affirmative, vitalistic notion. It affirms
multiplicity and the unity of multiplicity, to borrow a line from Nietzsche and
Philosophy (Deleuze, 1983, p. 36). It implies a crowned anarchy, a chaosmos, and a
vitalistic political philosophy, the essence of which is captured by the question How
can a being take another being into its world, but while preserving or respecting the
others own relations and world? (Deleuze, 1988, p. 126). To use the formulation of
Deleuze and Guattari (1987), anarchy and unity are one and the same thing, not the
unity of the One, but a much stranger unity that applies only to the multiple (p. 158).
Behind the notion of univocity lies a non-dualistic view of oneness and differences,
a view that is also found in Taoism. The whole idea of univocity resonates strongly
), which is perhaps the most
with Zhuangzis notion of the piping of heaven (
beautiful metaphor for the Tao: Blowing on the ten thousand things in a different
425
way, so that each can be itselfall take what they want for themselves, but who does
the sounding? (Watson, 1968, p. 37). The answer to the rhetorical question who does
the sounding? is the Tao, which is the supreme oneness that affirms the ten thousand
things. Liezi
, too, holds a non-dualistic view of oneness and differences. As he
points out: Though their shapes and chi are different, [the Ten Thousand Things]
are equal in nature, and none could be exchanged for the other (quoted in Wilson,
2012, p. 77).
This Taoist, non-dualistic view of oneness and differences has been inherited by
Zennists, for whom The ten thousand things in themselves are one (
), as
a Zen phrase has it (Hori, 2003, p. 158). Another Zen phrase dramatizes the simultaneous affirmation of both oneness and differences: Outwardly he says, All are one,
,
) (Hori, 2003,
privately he says, They are not the same (
p. 413). Humphreys points out in his book Zen Buddhism: [] the Many is the One
without ceasing to be individual things the One can be Many and still be One. This
is Jijimuge (1968, p. 45). Suzuki remarks that Maha Prajna (i.e., supreme wisdom
) sees into the unity of things, and Maha-Karuna (i.e., supreme compassion for
all living things
) appreciates their diversity (quoted in Humphreys, 1968, p. 49).
Since the Tao affirms the idiosyncrasies of the Many, there is really no contradiction
or duality between following ones nature
and being in accord with the Tao
, as Seng-tsan
, the Third Patriarch, teaches in the Taoist-flavoured poem Hsinhsin Ming. Toward the end of the poem, Seng-tsan points out: Each thing reveals
the One, the One manifests as all things (Seng-tsan, 2001, n.p.). This line is perhaps
the most concise elaboration on the formula put forward by Deleuze and Guattari,
PLURALISM = MONISM. The awakened man is capable of perceiving both unity
and multiplicity without suspecting the least contradiction between them.
Deleuzes understanding of etiology is in line with Taoist thinking and Zen thinking. All three take flow to be a sign of life and health and take blockage to be the
cause of illness, be it physical or mental or both. Flow implies tong (i.e., throughness,
a Taoist notion) or wuzhu
(i.e., non-abidance, a Zen notion) and vice versa. The
following quote from Deleuze (1997b) is self-explanatory: Neuroses or psychoses are
not passages of life but states into which we fall when the process is interrupted,
blocked, or plugged up. Illness is not a process but a stopping of the process, as in the
Nietzsche case (p. 228). Hui-neng holds a parallel view: To concentrate on the mind
and to contemplate it until it is still is a disease and not dhyana (
,
quoted in Watts, 1989, p. 94).
Deleuzes notion of singularity has strong affinities with the Zen experience.
For one thing, to accomplish ego-loss is to become a free, anonymous, and nomadic
singularity, which is impersonal and pre-individual and best known as the fourth
person singular (Deleuze, 1990, p. 107, p. 141). Nietzsches Overman would be a good
example; so is the Zen adept. The notion of singularity constitutes a philosophical intervention into, and an effort of going beyond, the Platonic dichotomy between universals (i.e., the Ideal Type, the model) and particulars (i.e., the specimen, the faithful copy
regulated by and judged on the basis of the Ideal Type). As Deleuze (1995) points out:
There are no universals, only singularities (p. 146). The notion of singularity belongs
426
with the idea of univocity or crowned anarchy. Singularity is unique. It is a singular expression of the univocity of Being or a larger, chaosmic whole. Grammatically, it is designated by the indefinite article, which is indetermination of the person only because
it is the determination of the singular (Deleuze, 2001, p. 30). A fully ethical society is
a society of neither individuals nor dividuals nor persons but singularities.
Fellow Deleuzeans looking for a working definition of singularity in Deleuzes
works often end up contemplating this quote: Singularities are turning points and
points of inflection; bottlenecks, knots, foyers, and centers; points of fusion, condensation, and boiling; points of tears and joy, sickness and health, hope and anxiety, sensitive points (1990, p. 52). Grasped this way, singularity indicates a threshold, a critical
point, the point that marks a qualitative difference. It is noteworthy that in his book
AnIntroduction to Zen Buddhism, Suzuki (1964) precisely uses the freezing point, which
fits Deleuzes definition of singularity, as an analogy for satori: When the freezing
point is reached, water suddenly turns into ice; the liquid has suddenly turned into a
solid body and no more flows freely (p. 95). Part of the message is that the coming
of satori takes place abruptly (Suzuki, 1961, p. 364, emphasis added).
For the Zen practitioner, singularity means the threshold moment when the practitioner is about to experience the mental catastrophe known as satori. That is to say,
when the masters he/katsu (i.e., shout) or other exit is the Kairotic moment
pedient means may trigger satori, the neurophysiological basis of which may well be
the concurrent happening of an astronomic number of quantum leaps in the practitioners brain, a happening that transforms the practitioners brain and being for good.
Deleuze himself suggests that Kairos is the condensation and intensification of singularities. Take this line from Difference and Repetition: [] we must condense all the
singularities, precipitate all the circumstances, points of fusion, congelation or condensation in a sublime occasion, Kairos, which makes the solution explode like something abrupt, brutal and revolutionary (Deleuze, 1994, p. 190). The language is highly
suggestive of satori, namely, sudden, total awakening. To use another formulation of
Deleuzes, It is at this mobile and precise point, where all events gather together in
one[,] that transmutation happens (Deleuze, 1990, p. 153).
Singularity is the threshold of becoming or transmutation. For the Zen practitioner,
or
reaching singularity means nothing less than seeing into ones own nature
seeing essence. This understanding is supported by the following passage from Dream
, the Rinzai Zen Buddhist monk:
Conversations, written by Mus Kokushi
Once someone asked a great Zen master of China about the distinction
between mind and essence. The master said, When its cold, water freezes
into ice; when its warm, ice melts into water. Similarly, when you are confused, essence freezes into mind; when you are enlightened, mind melts
into essence. Mind and essence are the same, but they differ according to
confusion and enlightenment. (Cleary, 2005b, p. 218)
John Blofeld (1972), translator of The Zen Teaching of Hui Hai, uses the image of
boiling to explain the abruptness of satori or illumination, the natural consequence of
which is deliverance
: it takes place abruptly, rather in the way that water, after
gradually getting hotter, suddenly boils (p. 150).
427
428
the present without thickness, the present of the counter-actualization (1990, p. 168).
This idea immediately calls to mind the Zen notion of birth and destruction at a ksana
. Thus explained, the Aion and ksana are largely synonymous. Insofar as
identity means non-duality or oneness, the identity of form and void is simply a
different way of saying form is emptiness (
), which is not a nihilistic statement but a vitalistic one.9 Behind the statement lies a fourfold logic, or tetralemma,
which is the logic of becoming.
Watts (1989) has a line in The Way of Zen that is very similar to the Deleuze passage
about drawing quoted above:
The secret lies in knowing how to balance form with emptiness and, above
all, in knowing when one has said enough the figure so integrally related to its empty space gives the feeling of the marvelous Void from
which the event suddenly appears. (p. 179)
Empty space is precisely what the emerging line of inquiry called interology
foregrounds.10 Although it could well be that Watts means the event in a somewhat
different sense than Deleuze does, the Zen aesthetic here implies the same ethics that
Deleuzes notion of the event entailsan ethics characterized by the appreciation and
affirmation of the virtual. In this sense, there is a natural affinity between interology,
Zen, and Deleuzes event-oriented philosophy.
In a sense, to intuit the event inside what occurs, the void/infinity beyond the
form, or the virtual that hovers over the actual, is to experience a degree of satori; on
the other hand, when one is ripe for satori, any occurrence is enough to provide the
spark for the explosion. Deleuzean ethics is consubstantial with this understanding.
As Deleuze (1990) puts it:
Either ethics makes no sense at all, or this is what it means and has nothing else to say to become worthy of what happens to us, and thus to
will and release the event, to become the offspring of ones own events,
and thereby to be reborn, to have one more birth, and to break with ones
carnal birth (pp. 149150)
The moral is: the Amor fati is one with the struggle of free men (Deleuze, 1990,
p. 149). R.H. Blyth associates the Amor fati (i.e., love of fate) with Zen. As he puts it:
Zen is making a pleasure of necessity, wanting to do what you are doing, a perpetual
realization that all that we behold is full of blessings, that cheerful faith as
Wordsworth calls it (Blyth, 1959, p. 87). Humphreys (1968) says the same thing where
he explains the delicate virtue of acceptance: [] freedom is not in doing what you
like but in liking what you do (p. 76). The freedom in question is a spiritual freedom.
To couch it in the language of Zen, whatever happens to us, be awakened by it and get
reborn. This is precisely the definition of satori.
Another Humphreys (1968) quote is in order here:
Psychologically the result [of satori] is a second birth, or new becoming,
for the ego, in the sense of the self which certain Buddhist teachers spend
their time persuading their audiences has no existence (anatta), receives
in satori (and not one moment before) its death-wound, and there is born,
429
on the hypothetical line where the conscious and unconscious meet, the
Self which in the end will achieve Supreme Enlightenment. Satori is, therefore, the re-making of life itself (p. 128)
To use Horis formulation, The conventional self was destroyed in the Great
Death, out of which there would step an awakened self (2003, p. 69). The birth of
the (awakened) Self is called xin ren tuo luo/shin jin datsu raku
. The above
quote by Humphreys gives a new meaning to the line from the French poet Jo
Bousquet that Deleuze is fond of invoking: My wound existed before me, I was born
to embody it (quoted in Deleuze, 1990, p. 148). That is to say, I was born to experience
ego-death and to become the offspring of that event (i.e., a free man). Form is to void
as ego is to the post-satori Self, which is egoless and measureless.
430
and tends to permute with the archer and the target (Deleuze and Guattari, 1987,
p. 377). The smooth space of Zen affords infinite possibilities for relaying, redirecting,
and relaunching the arrow so its trajectory is totally indeterminate. Given the oneness
between archer, arrow, and target, by shooting the arrow into the air, the archer also
launches himself into the air, and starts an indeterminate adventure of transmutation
and becoming.
Regarding the oneness of archer, arrow, and target, et cetera, Deleuze (1990) points out:
[T]he bowman must reach the point where the aim is also not the aim,
that is to say, the bowman himself; where the arrow flies over its straight
line while creating its own target; where the surface of the target is also
the line and the point, the bowman, the shooting of the arrow, and what
is shot at. (p. 146)
Here, shooting becomes non-shooting (Deleuze, 1990, p. 137). It takes the language of tetralemma to account for what is transpiring: it is shooting; it is not shooting;
it is both shooting and non-shooting; it is neither shooting nor non-shooting but Zen
discipline, under which bowman, arrow, and target become one, the ego of the bowman is eliminated, and the subject-object dichotomy is dissolved. As such, the Zen art
of archery challenges the linguistic ideology behind our syntactic conventions, especially the ideology of transitivity, and inspires only a silent and immediate communication (Deleuze, 1990, p. 137).
Deleuze and Guattari use the image of the Zen tea box broken in a hundred
places to illustrate the point of schizoanalysis.
Humpty Dumpty makes an equally potent image. The following passage from AntiOedipus, a Zen-flavoured book, is worth quoting at length:
[T]he schizophrenic process is not an illness, not a breakdown but a
breakthrough, however distressing and adventurous: breaking through
the wall or the limit separating us from desiring-production, causing the
flows of desire to circulate [S]chizoanalysis would come to nothing if it
did not add to its positive tasks the constant destructive task of disintegrating the normal ego [I]t is certain that neither men nor women are
clearly defined personalities, but rather vibrations, flows, schizzes, and
knots. The task of schizoanalysis is that of tirelessly taking apart egos
and their presuppositions; liberating the prepersonal singularities they enclose and repress; mobilizing the flows they would be capable of transmitting, receiving, or intercepting; establishing always further and more
sharply the schizzes and the breaks well below conditions of identity; and
assembling the desiring-machines that countersect everyone and group
everyone with others. For everyone is a little group (ungroupuscule) and
must live as suchor rather, like the Zen tea box broken in a hundred
places, whose every crack is repaired with cement made of gold, or like
the church tile whose every fissure is accentuated by the layers of paint or
lime covering it (Deleuze & Guattari, 1983, p. 362)
431
To paraphrase the point, everyone is a multiplicity; the ego is a pseudo-unity that traps
and arrests the vital forces of this multiplicity; schizoanalysis reveals the fissures and
unleashes the vital forces. As a therapeutic practice, its efficacy resides in the restoration of tong (i.e., throughness). The fissures embody the Zen notion of li/ri and
. In this sense, there is Zen in schizoanalysis.
the philosophical concept of interality
The passage immediately calls to mind a Zen phrase:
,
,
which literally means cracking up is up to me; kneading together is also up to me.11
The I coalesces as a result of causes ( ) and external conditions (pratyaya ) but
is impermanent or empty. It has its utility when the right pratyaya calls for it but is to
be let go of afterwards (
,
). Nonattachment to the I allows my action
to be more efficacious.
Watts (1959) has a few lines about the broken Zen tea box in his booklet Beat Zen,
Square Zen, and Zen:
[T]here are painters and writers who have mastered the authentically
Zen art of controlling accidents. Historically this first arose in the Far-East
in the appreciation of the rough texture of brush-strokes in calligraphy
and painting, and in the accidental running of the glaze on bowls made
for the tea-ceremony. One of the classical instances of this kind of thing
came about through the shattering of a fine ceramic tea caddy, belonging
to one of the old Japanese tea masters. The fragments were cemented together with gold, and its owner was amazed at the way in which the random network of thin gold lines enhanced its beauty. (pp. 1213)
Watts (1959) suggests that the cracks in the tea caddy reveal a principle of order which
in Chinese philosophy is termed li, and which Joseph Needham has translated organic
pattern (p. 13).
Regarding li , Watts (1959) points out further:
Li originally meant the markings in jade, the grain in wood, and the fiber
in muscle. It designates a type of order which is too multidimensional, too
subtly interrelated, and too squirmingly vital to be represented in words
or mechanical images. (p. 13)
If an intuitive grasp of li allows the artist to create beauty, it also enables the schizoanalyst to unleash arrested vitalities.
The Stoic sage in The Logic of Sense is veritably indistinguishable from the
Zen master.
On the other hand, the Zen attitude presented in Zen in the Art of Archery is largely indistinguishable from the Stoic stance. The following passage is either Deleuzes contribution to Zen literature or his repurposing of the Zen mode of communication toward
Stoicism, or both.
We must imagine a situation in which a disciple is raising a question of
signification: O master, what is ethics? The Stoic sage takes then a hardboiled egg from his reversible cloak and designates the egg with his staff.
(Or, having taken out the egg, he strikes the disciple with his staff, giving
him to understand that he himself must provide the answer. The disciple,
432
in turn, takes the staff and breaks the egg in such a manner that a little of
the white remains attached to the yoke and a little to the shell. Either the
master has to do all of this himself, or the disciple will have come to have
an understanding only after many years.) At any rate, the place of ethics
is clearly displayed between the two poles of the superficial, logical shell
and the deep physical yoke. (Deleuze, 1990, p. 142)
The passage suggests that a virtuous and virtuosic Stoic sage or Zen master explains
nothing. Instead, he makes do with whatever is handy and turns it into a witty heuristic
so as to touch off a sudden epiphany on the part of the disciple.
The following advice (from Zen in the Art of Archery), which coaches the Zen attitude, also crystallizes the Stoic mental posture: You know already that you should
not grieve over bad shots; learn now not to rejoice over the good ones. You must free
yourself from the buffetings of pleasure and pain (Herrigel, 1953, p. 87). The essence
of archery does not reside in hitting the target, but in self-fashioning and spiritual
transformation.
Deleuzes notions of speed and slowness capture the two modes of Zen
existence and the secret behind Zen-inspired martial arts.
The Chinese idiom still as a girl, fast as a loose rabbit (
,
) says it
all. As if commenting on the Chinese idiom, which notably has its origin in The Art of
War (by Sun Tzu), Deleuze and Guattari point out: The girl is certainly not defined
by virginity; she is defined by a relation of movement and rest, speed and slowness
(Deleuze & Guattari, 1987, p. 276).
Deleuze and Guattari (1987) present speed and slowness as above or below the
to illustrate the point:
threshold of perception. They use Sumo wrestling
Like huge Japanese wrestlers whose advance is too slow and whose holds
are too fast to see, so that what embraces are less the wrestlers than the
infinite slowness of the wait (what is going to happen?) and the infinite
speed of the result (what happened?). Movement, like the girl as a fugitive being, cannot be perceived. (p. 281)
Although Sumo wrestling per se is associated more with Shintoism than
Zen, stillness and speed do characterize Zen-inspired martial arts as well.
When still, the Zen-spirited martial artist embodies the perfection of
wudi/muteki
being unchallengeable; when the opportune moment
comes, he makes a move that is imperceptibly fast.12 Bruce Lee constitutes
a perfect example. Some of his moves can only be perceived when played
back in slow motion. The typical bodybuilder is no match for the karate
fighter because the latter can easily read the former, anticipate his moves,
and meet him where he is coming. Bruce Lees Jeet Kune Do
embodies the same principle.
There is Zen in the way Deleuze and Guattari (1987) talk about Kleists speed and
slowness in AThousand Plateaus:
Kleist: everything with him, in his writing as in his life, becomes speed
and slowness. A succession of catatonic freezes and extreme velocities,
433
fainting spells and shooting arrows. Sleep on your steed, then take off at
a gallop. Jump from one assemblage to another, with the aid of a faint, by
crossing a void. Kleist multiplies life plan(e)s, but his voids and failures,
his leaps, earthquakes, and plagues are always included on a single plane.
(p. 268)
The implication seems to be that stillness is the ground out of which speed bursts
forth, and that to banish stillness is to block becoming. Perhaps Zen precisely resides
in the bimodal oscillation (to use a technical term in a non-technical sense) between
speed and slowness. Here, void is synonymous with interality, which is indispensable for becoming. The last sentence of the quote indicates that stillness and speed
are of a piecethey belong to the same plane of immanence.
Later on in the same book, Deleuze and Guattari (1987) associate speed and slowness with affect and ego-loss:
This element of exterioritywhich dominates everything, which Kleist
invents in literature, which he is the first to inventwill give time a new
rhythm: an endless succession of catatonic episodes or fainting spells, and
flashes or rushes. Catatonia is: This affect is too strong for me, and a
flash is: The power of this affect sweeps me away, so that the Self (Moi)
is now nothing more than a character whose actions and emotions are
desubjectified, perhaps even to the point of death. Such is Kleists personal
formula: a succession of flights of madness and catatonic freezes in which
no subjective interiority remains. There is much of the East in Kleist: the
Japanese fighter, interminably still, who then makes a move too quick to
see. The Go play. (p. 356)
To restate the point, in Kleist, there is only affect-induced speed or slowness, but no
ego whatsoever. It should not come off as a stretch to say that in the eyes of Deleuze
and Guattari, Kleist embodies the Zen ethos.
Notably, Deleuze and Guattari (1987) associate speed and slowness with the
nomad, and consider speed to be essentially a matter of intensity, thereby arriving at
the paradoxical oneness of speed and slowness that characterizes nomadism:
The nomad knows how to wait, he has infinite patience. Immobility and
speed, catatonia and rush a speed may be very slow, or even immobile,
yet it is still speed speed is intensive speed constitutes the absolute
character of a body whose irreducible parts (atoms) occupy or fill a smooth
space in the manner of a vortex, with the possibility of springing up at any
point. (It is therefore not surprising that reference has been made to spiritual voyages effected without relative movement, but in intensity, in one
place: these are part of nomadism.) (p. 381, emphasis in the original)
In the final analysis, nomadism is a spiritual enterprise. Zen is a species of nomadism
precisely in this spiritual sense. It is worth pointing out that Disney has been cashing
in on the paradoxical oneness of speed and slowness. At the end of the movie Zootopia,
for example, it was the slow-moving sloth that was caught speeding. Deleuze and
434
Guattari would say, however, that the sloths speeding does not really give it speed,
paradoxical as this may sound.
In a letter to Kuniichi Uno, Deleuze indicates that Guattari embodies the speed
principle whereas he himself embodies the stillness principle. Between the two of
them, there is Zen, so it seems. Take this quote:
I should compare [Guattari] to the sea: he always seems to be in motion,
sparkling with light. He can jump from one activity to another. He doesnt
sleep much, he travels, he never stops. He never ceases. He has extraordinary speeds. I am more like a hill: I dont move much, I cant manage two
projects at once, I obsess over my ideas, and the few movements I do have
are internal. Together, Flix and I would have made a good Sumo
wrestler. (Deleuze, 2007, p. 237)
The mountain and water images are noteworthy. The one apparently rests; the
other moves. The one embodies Samadhi
/ ; the other embodies Prajna . As
the typical Zen-spirited artist is affectively invested between mountain and water, so
the interality between Deleuze and Guattari has a Zen quality to it. Put otherwise, there
is a contrapuntal or symbiotic relationship between Deleuze and Guattari, who are
mediators for each other. The interface and interplay between them affords involution
and becoming. The last line of the quote captures the two modes of Zen at once. When
applied to the mind, slowness and speed mean imperturbability and non-abidance
(
), respectively, which are flip sides of the same coin. The imperturbable side of
the mind is captured by an ichigyomono
(one-liner) found in the Zenrin Kushu
: When the water flows quickly, the moon is not carried along (
) (Wilson, 2012, p. 146). This mental attitude allows the swordsman, for example,
to register everything without being detained by anything in a complex situation.
Imperturbability ensures fluidity and speed of the mind, thus allowing the swordsman
calls this attitudethis combination of
to take right action. Takuan Sh
stillness and speedimmovable wisdom (
). The gist lies in glancing at
something and not stopping the mind (Wilson, 2014, p. 48). As such, the mind is at
,
, hence its freedom.
once everywhere and nowhere in particular
Eugen Herrigel (1953) calls this mental state right presence of mind (p. 59). A still
mind is a fast mind, relative to which other things seem to slow down, such as an
arrow coming at oneself. On a separate note, this age of massive distraction demands
both tranquility and non-abidance of the mind.
Like Jakob von Uexkll, Deleuze and Guattari are fond of talking about the tick.
In a sense, the tick is girl and rabbit (i.e., stillness and speed) in one. Take this passage
from AThousand Plateaus:
[T]he tick, attracted by the light, hoists itself up to the tip of a branch; it is
sensitive to the smell of mammals, and lets itself fall when one passes beneath
the branch; it digs into its skin, at the least hairy place it can find. Just three
affects; the rest of the time the tick sleeps, sometimes for years on end, indifferent to all that goes on in the immense forest. Its degree of power is indeed
bounded by two limits: the optimal limit of the feast after which it dies, and
the pessimal limit of the fast as it waits. (Deleuze & Guattari, 1987, p. 257)
435
Although Deleuze and Guattari (1987) associate the tick with the Stoic, it can serve
as a metaphor for the Zennist just as well. For one thing, it knows how to fast. When
it stays at the tip of the branch, its stillness resembles the state of Samadhi. Its self-nature makes it so that it will be awakened whenever a mammal passes beneath the
branch, in the same way all of us will awaken to our innate Buddha nature upon encountering the right trigger. Upon awakening, it drops onto the mammal with absolutely no hesitation, which is to say, the action is taken in an utterly wuxin
(mind-less) mode. The butyric acid emitted by the mammalany mammaltriggers
off astonishing life in the tick, which switches from a girl mode (rest) to a rabbit mode
(movement) immediately. Once awakened, the tick lives the rest of its life in an intense
and passionate mode. To use Giorgio Agambens words, [] the ticks feast of blood
is also her funeral banquet, for now there is nothing left for her to do but fall to the
ground, deposit her eggs and die (Agamben, 2004, p. 46). The ticks post-awakening
life more or less exemplifies the point of the Zen phrase Having heard the Way in
the morning, I can die in the evening (
) (originally from The Analects
of Confucius, collected in Hori, 2003, p. 258).
If Kerouacs On the Road is partly an outcome of the speed of typing, then Cixouss
Neutre calls for an accelerated speed of reading. As Deleuze (2004) puts it:
We see the Cixous mystery in her last book Neutre: an author acknowledged as difficult generally demands to be read slowly: in this case, however, the work asks us to read it fast, and we are bound to read it again,
faster and faster. The difficulties which a slow reader would experience
dissolve as the reading speed increases. In my view, Cixous has invented
a new and original kind of writing writing in strobe, where the story
comes alive, different themes connect up, and words form various figures
according to the precipitous speeds of reading and association. (p. 230)
The way Deleuze takes account of Cixous writing calls to mind the invention of film,
which more or less coincided with Bergsons philosophy. The whole idea of strobe rests
on the co-functioning of speed and microintervals. Deleuzes explanation points in
the direction of Zen and interality for the simple reason that Zen emphasizes relationality rather than thingness, interdiction and extra-diction rather than diction, and that,
as far as interality studies is concerned, the meaning of words lies as much between
and beyond words as within words. Deleuzes repeated mention of speed and slowness
can be attributed to Paul Virilios influence, but the treatment is different. With the
exception of the quote cited above, there is rarely any one-sided emphasis on speed
alone in Deleuzes work.
The discourse of accelerationism popular among present-day Deleuzeans is more
or less an extrapolation of Deleuzes understanding of the middle, which is where
things pick up speed (Deleuze & Guattari, 1987, p. 25). To paraphrase Deleuzes point,
interality is the locus of acceleration. The gist of accelerationism is the precipitation of
Deleuzean events and becomings, and can be summarized with the equation becoming= going through and beyond (control), which involves an allusion to Deleuzes interview with Toni Negri entitled Control and Becoming (Deleuze, 1995, pp. 169176).
The understanding is that speeding up or acceleration, as opposed to slowing down,
436
is the means of accomplishing throughness and beyondness, both of which are Zenspirited terms. Metaphorically speaking, accelerationism is a species of socio-political
jujitsu
, the latter being a Zen-inspired martial art. An obvious blind spot of the
discourse is its overemphasis on speed and the attendant de-emphasizing of slowness
or stillness. The under-examined question is Acceleration at what cost?
Accelerationism is a bit too future- and purpose-oriented. Zen, by contrast, is presentoriented and purposeless.
437
[A]fter a real rupture, one succeeds in being just like everybody else. To
go unnoticed is by no means easy. If it is so difficult to be like everybody else, it is because it is an affair of becoming. This requires much
asceticism, much sobriety, much creative evolution: an English elegance,
an English fabric, blend in with the walls (p. 279)
This quote also calls to mind the Zen phrase The superior hermit hides himself in a
noisy market (
.14 Suzuki (1964) points out, Zen reveals itself in the most
uninteresting and uneventful life of a plain man of the street, recognizing the fact of
living in the midst of life as it is lived (p. 45).
Becoming imperceptible is a recurrent motif in Deleuzes work. Take these lines
from Dialogues:
[W]e no longer have any secrets, we no longer have anything to hide. It is
we who have become a secret, it is we who are hidden, even though we
do all openly, in broad daylight. We have painted ourselves in the
colours of the world. (Deleuze & Parnet, 1987, p. 46)
The Pink Panther is one of Deleuzes favourite examples for becoming imperceptible.
One who is familiar with the 10 stages of spiritual cowherding will realize immediately that becoming imperceptible is the highest step of Zen-style spiritual training,
which is couched in the following language:
Entering the City with Bliss-bestowing Hands. His humble cottage door is
closed, and the wisest know him not. No glimpses of his inner life are to
be caught; for he goes on his own way without following the steps of the
ancient sages. Carrying a gourd he goes out into the market; leaning
against a stick he comes home. He is found in company with wine-bibbers
and butchers; he and they are all converted into Buddhas. (Suzuki, 1961,
p. 376, emphasis in the original)
Becoming imperceptible implies a mode of action that is clean or inconsequential,
, or action that is
that creates no karma . Taoists and Zennists call it wu-wei
non-action. As a Zen phrase has it: Entering the forest he moves not the grass; [e]nter,
) (Watts, 1989, p. 152).
ing the water he makes not a ripple (
Suzuki (1961) calls this kind of action meritless deeds that leave no tracks or shadows.
He invokes the following Zen couplet to illustrate the point: The bamboo shadows
are sweeping the stairs, but no dust is stirred. The moonlight penetrates deep in the
bottom of the pool, but no trace is left in the water (
,
) (p. 352). Deleuzes phrase a rigorous innocence without merit or culpability
indicates that he is privy to this understanding (Deleuze, 1988, p. 4). A precursor to
this notion can be found in the immemorial IChing: In the Book of Changes it is said:
A tied-up sack. No blame, no praise. This counsels caution (Baynes, 1967, p. 394).
,
.
.
The original wording in Chinese is
:
,
Concluding remarks
This article indicates that there is an unmistakable Zen flavour to Deleuzes thought.
It invites Deleuze scholars and Zen devotees alike to experience the resonant interval
between Deleuzes corpus and Zen literature as a site for interanimation and mutual
438
illumination, a space for new insights to emerge. As such, the article puts on display
interology as a mode of inquiry and interality as a locus of fresh understanding. The
essay is meant to be provocative rather than exhaustive. It is supposed to be invitational and unfinished. It celebrates creativity and receptivity, transitivity and affectability, singularity and multiplicity, haecceity and potentiality, acceleration and
deceleration, tranquility and non-abidance. It takes impermanence as the very essence
of life, immanence as the transcendence of transcendence, betweenness as the condition of possibility for throughness and beyondness. The reader is invited to let go and
venture to the point where Deleuze as an effect is indistinguishable from Zen as a
flavour, where emptiness is indistinguishable from infinity, where Samadhi is at one
with Prajna, where every step becomes the daochang/dj
, every encounter obtains a spiritual quality, every ksana is intuited as a witness for perishability
and rebirth, where one becomes compassionately detached, intoxicated by pure water,
and enraptured by the mundane acts of life.
Acknowledgements
The author thanks Professor Tatsuya Higaki for inviting him to present an initial version of this article at a plenary session at the Deleuze Studies in Asia Conference held
at Osaka University in June 2014. He also thanks the following scholars for reading a
version of the article: Robert L. Ivie, Stephen C. Rowe, Kenneth Surin, Richard John
Lynn, Geling Shang, Wayne Schroeder, Bill Guschwan, Blake Seidenshaw, and Deneb
Kozikoski Valereto. He feels indebted to Ron Greene, Charles Stivale, Chan Master
Victor Chiang, and Jason Adams for their responsiveness when he had questions about
certain ideas, and to Jean-Franois Valle for putting the abstract and keywords into
French.
Notes
1. Humphreys (1968) presents the kan exercise as the concentration of mind and heart and will on
the breaking of the bonds of the intellect, that the light of the intuition may illumine the mind, and
the domination of the opposites be broken once and for all (p. 73).
2. This textual strategy or style of exploration is more or less justified by a line from Foucaults preface
to Anti-Oedipus: Develop action, thought, and desire by proliferation, juxtaposition, and disjunction,
and not by subdivision and pyramidal hierarchization (Deleuze & Guattari, 1983, p. xiii).
3. Deleuze (1995) points out: In the act of writing theres an attempt to free life from what imprisons it. Everything Ive written is vitalistic, at least I hope it is (p. 143). Regarding the eternal return,
Deleuze remarks, Only affirmation comes back, only what can be affirmed comes back, only joy returns (2001, pp. 8889).
4. For an example of paradox, take this line from On the Superiority of Anglo-American Literature:
It would take a true alcoholic to attain that degree of sobriety (Deleuze & Parnet, 1987, p. 50). And
this line from AThousand Plateaus: Be quick, even when standing still! (Deleuze & Guattari, 1987,
p. 24). And the phrase an extremely populous solitude (Deleuze & Guattari, 1987, p. 377). Zen literature is full of paradoxical formulations. Take this line from Zen in the Art of Archery: I see the goal as
though I did not see it (Herrigel, 1953, p. 84). The late Sokei-an Sasaki
found Carrolls Alice
in Wonderland to be an admirable Zen manual (Watts, 1989, p. 167).
5. Richard John Lynn
, the sinologist and translator of the IChing as interpreted by Wang Bi
(
), holds that the poem was written from the bridegrooms perspective. Upon request, he offered
the following translation by email in September 2015:
439
440
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